Every piece of your life, can potentially be found on Facebook. Your child’s birth photos, from right in the womb, to their sweet 16th birthday are all there. Trips to Antigua and check-ins to the Mall, everything freely shared with that sneaky prompt, “What’s on your mind?”
And then, if you live in Kampala, as I do, chances are a boda-boda, or some other necessary evil, will take the life of your innocent child or spouse or parent or sibling.
Then… Whats on your mind? Well, why not review (and maybe even re-live) the online life of your dearly departed.
Not so fast – last week, a Berlin Court issued an order that barred parents of a deceased gal from obtaining access to her Facebook profile and its records. Facebook accounts, by their very nature, are personal. As this Reuters article notes, the secrecy of correspondence protects not just the child, but also the people who she spoke with, and their privacy must be protected.
The child’s Facebook account must be a relic of sorts, and rightly so the parents probably want to lock this away or perhaps search it for their own closure. But the people she communicated with, if they are still alive, have their own right of communication privacy. Should familial curiosity override this? I am sure this was a difficult decision for the court to make, but I think their ruling is reasonable.
I remember growing up when dairies had not just yet been replaced by blogs that the given notion was: never read one that isn’t yours. If you are the parent of a young person, you know what it means to know less than 1% of their life. And that was when you lived on a ranch and wrote in diaries. In the information age, that life is spread thinner on at least 3 different social platforms, many of them allowing digital photography.
Its been an exciting year, and its been filled with equal measure of God’s blessings for life, and Man’s quest for control.
Something happens around this time – we reminisce all the things that have gone well, and if we care, we stop to count them one by one. We also look back on the challenging moments and we promise to make good on them the following year.
Gabriella asked me, “Daddy, when is the day of recycle?”
Of course i was taken aback, not completely sure how to respond, because I was locked in my mind trying to figure out how she arrived at this point in her vocabulary. She noticed.
She went on to explain that the day of recycle is when we take all the things we do not need and give them away to people who need them. She would like us to spend a day cleaning her bedroom so that she can find things to give away. She is confident that the house could use such a breather.
I am eternally impressed at what is happening in her little 6 year old mind, but am especially excited about how she would associate recycle with benevolence!
So I actually started thinking – Would it not be great to have all the people you in your house pile up everything that you all don’t currently use?
Follow that up with a big family wash of all those goodies and eventually, make them available at a Charity store, or drop them off at one of the malls.
Now imagine that 120 families in each of the constituencies in Kampala, Wakiso and Entebbe and other the other 100 municipalities in the country each arranged for a large Christmas give away bash where we just celebrated as a community.
Throw in hundreds of volunteers to arrange all these things into various sizes and categories and pack them up in family size giveaways – or community center store packs.
This may be the best way to celebrate Christmas afterall.
Last week, I interacted with a young bespectacled Kenyan girl – she is attending school in my neighbourhood, a proud P.7 candidate. Her testimony, was of being able to score above 95% in a couple of exams and 92% and 94% in the other 2 subjects.
She was happy particularly because she felt that this set of mock exams, taken from another school, was harder than the set of exams of her own school. She went on to say, she would like God to give her wisdom to get the other 2 subjects above 95% because her teacher mentioned to her its the new passmark for getting a distinction.
My jaw could not drop lower. She must be 13 or thereabout.
She went to narrate how her school takes pupils that do not score high grades to other schools for PLE. Apparently, Kampala based schools would like to maintain the impression of a perfect scores, so they offload pupils who are scoring 3rd and 4th grade marks to lower schools where they “fit” in the demographics. For these schools, these students will taint the scorecard, and cause their annual classification to dip when the UNEB comes reading the top 5 schools in each district.
How and when did we get to the deep echelons of such selfishness? And why is the future generation of this country being made to feel that they are inadequate just because they will skew the scores?
Parents, you need to be wary of a school that has no children in 3rd and 4th grade listed on their P7 lists for the last 10 years, because as we all know, academic brilliance is a normal binomial distribution – there will be quartiles, on either extremes.
I went to Kibuli Secondary School and i know that even the creme de la creme of post primary institutions, inspite of their very best selection efforts, still land, atleast in good time, students who cannot remain as good as their 4, 5 or 6 aggregates scored at PLE.
What are we doing to our children? All these teachers who are clamouring for more, for themselves, when silently they are depriving our children of the right to fail – because as we know, and much later in life, failure is a much celebrated ingredient of success. Why do we make our children feel bad because they did not score 95%?
Parents, why do you accept to live under the pressure to pay extra fees to one teacher, so your child can miss their rightful term holidays and weekends? Is it really true that this one teacher will make your child pass? And when that teacher gets hit by a boda boda? Then what, you will move on to pay the next teacher who promises your child a 4?
Why would you expect this teacher to be doubly motivated to help a handful of children pass just because they pay an extra 100,000/= , and get to miss out on their weekends and holidays? If this is what the teacher needs, why don’t we work through the PTA (Parents’ and Teachers’ Association) to motivate all the teachers in the same school so that other children who cannot afford this can also benefit from such a teacher? After all, isn’t sharing caring?
I cry for the children who are moved from one stream to another, and one school to another, and eventually get knocked out of a school because their grades are considered not good enough by the very administration whose job is to increase their confidence and ability to tackle academic and life challenges. For these children, failure will always be a mark on their faces, painted by the system we pay.
I am sick to my stomach that we let such culture take root in our feeble education system.
I am ashamed for the parents who walk out of the headteachers’ offices convinced that their children are not good enough to sit their final exams at a school they have patronised for the better part of 6 years.
I am angry at the idea that you drive back home and find the words to package that hope shattering nonsense, and unwittingly become the postman for your child’s new found future – a future that says they are not good enough; at least not good enough to sit in the school they have sacrificed early morning for all their lives.
This same school, when the results are out, will pay a premium fee to the press, for an advert that says they had 90% first grades, and the other 10% were second grades. They had no 3rd and 4th grades. Oh how conveniently magical!
My mother was a very relational person. She knew everyone – almost. And she knew to welcome everyone. This is one of the most important lessons I will ever learn from her. To love and honor people is no easy fit. People are complicated, friends become weird and brothers fight! It is hard work loving people and remaining committed to loving them. Yet when I look back at my mother, she seemed to pull this off effortlessly.
Sunday lunch always had a guest – a friend or a relative – to catch up with. Clearly, I have not been as great at this. She would spend the precious hours of her weekend attending events, weddings, funerals, vigils, and many others. I always never understood why everyone expected her to be there all the time.
In hindsight, I wish I had gleaned those lessons in time. Now, I find my calendar at a stretch to go visit and attend to everyone. It is easy to hide your head in the sand, thinking I cannot please everyone. But am sure we all know someone who manages to be the people person – and we simply wonder, how do they do it? We all have 24 hours, how is it that they manage to make time for everyone and we just want to hoard the time for ourselves?
Gabriella’s mother is another woman I find very interesting. I am yet to observe a very hardworking woman such as this. She gets tired very often, but if there’s one thing I can count on, she is such a home maker! She has a zeal for a nice and good home; she keeps an eye for speck of any kind of mess. When its all said, and done, beds are straight, the girls rest and I get the rest!
In the 21st century, these 2 qualities are perhaps the most intrinsic qualities of a good woman, and an accomplished mother – to remain relational and friendly in the face of 5 inch mobile screens and tablets; and to remain a hardworking home maker when you could throw money at “the problem”.
I honor these women, for who they are to me but also for the example they represent for the hundreds of girls waiting to turn into women. Happy Mother’s Day.
Yesterday, I drove to Time 2 Play, the gals could not have been more excited. A friend’s children were joining us and it was after a sumptuous sunday lunch. I was on when I arrived to check on the gals a second time just before 5pm.
I walked through the gate, unchecked. Completely. The guard who manned the entrance was deep in conversation on the phone when I strolled past him. There was no metal check not body frisking.
On a Sunday evening, Time 2 Play is teaming with typically 2 or 3 birthday parties. During the school holidays, it has a residential camp. During the school term, the facility runs a nursery school. There is a junior swimming pool and an adult pool. There are swings and sand pits.
I witnessed a young man run into another with a bicycle. The “riding track” is also the defacto separation between the sandpits and swings and the upper area where parties are held; along with the occasional costumed entertainers.
I was able to walk to the main building, unrestricted, observing one attendant between the main pool and the children’s pool which was visibly swamped. There is a Kitchen that was serving up french fries on the ground floor, there is no way that children could possibly be in class with the smell of a live kitchen right beneath.
I did not observe any CCTV between the rooms and the corridors, nor around the perimeter of the play spaces that have been created for the children. I find that the only way to identify a child is the arm band that is stuck to the arm of a subscribed child, 8000/- UGX per head.
I was able to walk right up to the second floor of the main building with no one having approached me to ask if I was looking for something in particular or if i was lost. This is when I started thinking…
- How may child minders should play spaces have? What is the ideal and practical ratio?
- What kind of child minder training and guidelines should be in the places where we expect to leave our children for a few hours?
- Can children of the different body mass and height access the same play spaces comfortably?
- Should it be mandatory that play spaces have video surveillance?
- What should the guidelines be for adults accessing child play spaces?
- Would Time 2 Play and other children play spaces do background checks on the child minders and care givers?
- In this terror filled era, how do we make sure that adults like me do not walk in and present a potential harm to the children?
As a parent, I know that when I take my children to play, it is time to play, but when the environments of the spaces we have created for our children to play are so visibly unsafe, I keep wondering, when it comes to their safety and future, is it time to play?
Today, I walked from my house, and I searched for my 52nd yo Uganda. I found an amazing result.
Any father of 3 gals has to ask if his community is the best place to raise them – saw i called up the gentleman selling a sexy plot of land, just slightly less than an acre – 400 Million shillings, he said. I cannot afford it – but I would like to get it. I should. Besides it, there exists an islamic community school, young boys will learn their faith here. Across the road, boda bodas.
I walked through a maze of houses that left me wondering if their daughters stood a chance at sexual violence. down the bumpy windy road, little children play with used tyres and teenagers fetch water from a clean water well. There is no way a service provider could possibly work out supplying these unfinished houses with decent utilities. Still, they can afford satellite TV – Gulf TV. Ugandans are happy.
There is a mukiga in Kyebando – he’s turned the swamp into a maze of vegetables, intricately trapping rain water that comes from the up the slope, tapping into the small channel. When Kampala is hot and dry, this man will have fresh vegetables. Uganda is after all, gifted by nature!
There were 2 churches separated by a small single lane road; one in a permanent structure with stained glass; the other a typical sight in Kampala neighborhoods – loud cranky sounds coming from a box of iron sheets. Uganda, I must say, is pretty church-ed.
There is a maize miller factory in this very neighborhood, the young men can be mistaken for grayed senior citizens save for their built biceps that load sacks of posho onto a waiting fuso truck. Its not uncommon to find these millers dotted across the communities – they represent the local bourgeois while underwhelming the investor label. Uganda has potential.
How could we possibly serve a community where 2 churches, a maize mill and a motel exist besides a soccer pitch and a boarding school? Lets start by knowing who is there. This year, following the National Census, and after 52 years of independence, Ugandans like me will get a National ID. Uganda can be slow and clueless.
I jumped 2 water channels to get across to the pitch where Chelsea striker Diego Costa is idolized on the back of a young lad. There are no nets on the make shift goal posts, and there is no ref, but this is not enough to stop a crowd of young men to kick the ball. I cant help but stop for a moment, Ugandans, we love soccer!
One of my daughters just received her 4 month immunization, her schedule etched on my smartphone means she will not miss any of her shots. The government of Uganda has provided for free immunization, including next year, Rota Virus and HPV to protect our teenage gals against cervical cancers. I wish we could reach all children, considering they represent about 57% of this land. Uganda is young.
Driving through the surbubs you cannot miss the numerous mobile money sale points, nor the lads flipping chapatis. You cannot miss the spare parts shop or the clothes kiosk. Infact, you need to stop at the occasional fruit/vegetable stand. It feels like Uganda’s economy will be better – SACCOS and the Boda! Make no mistake, I would sell the boda to the world, if that’s all Uganda had to offer. Hundreds of young men (and the families they represent) have made fortunes on these 2 wheels – many are guaranteed to earn more than a dollar a day! Uganda is NOT poor!
I have been to 7 countries so far, and still, the only places my Ugandan passport can get me to without a visa are our 4 neighbors. Americans can get to 155 countries – if they want! We have not make enough friends in the world, not even on the African continent. The world can get into Uganda for $50 at your preferred port of entry. East Africans need only a national ID. Uganda is hospitable.
There will still be quite a bit of Uganda for me: my dear wife is from another tribe – when you have over 50 tribes, you need something to hold us together, and we’ve settled for the queen’s lingo.
Did I mention the oil? Oh well, that will be when we Uganda is 55 or thereafter!
So today as I celebrate my country’s independence, I wonder why my social security cant help me to invest in the booming property market – its mandatory for someone to hold my savings and decide how to use them in my interest! Why give it to me when it could help me now.
I also wonder if i should expect an executive of 1 to engage others, a cabinet of 60 to debate seriously, how a parliament of 360 to make progress, a judiciary of recycled (and untested) competencies to retain its moral authority; a government of hundreds to function cohesively and effectively; and how a young uneducated and untreated population to support the economy. Uganda is expensive to administrate.
Still, on Saturday 11th October, I will join a force of 40,000 Ugandan in red, white and yellow, and we will scream, should, drum, ululate and cheer the Uganda Cranes against Togo. Inspite of many things, soccer unites Ugandans.
Together with GHC CEO, Barbara Bush, find out how Men can help STOP the spread of HIV to Infants and Children: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/barbara-bush/how-can-men-help-stop-the_b_5862200.html